


Baby's First Christmas

by mainstreamelectricalparade



Series: Many Times, Many Ways (Merry Christmas To You) [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Baby Peter Parker, Christmas Fluff, Clingy Peter Parker, Family Feels, First Christmas, Gen, Grandma Rhodey, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, listen this may be the fluffiest thing i've ever written and that's saying a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamelectricalparade/pseuds/mainstreamelectricalparade
Summary: In the years between his first year of college and now, if Tony wasn't forcibly dragged to Pennsylvania (and, more specifically, the Rhodes family home) by Rhodey, he spent the holidays in his workshop, tinkering and bickering with JARVIS and his bots. It wasn't a bad way to spend the holidays – he liked JARVIS and his bots – but it was how he spent almost every other day of the year.This year was drastically different. Christmas cheer had infiltrated Tony's home, inside and out.(Set in December, 2001 - Peter is four months old!)





	Baby's First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for so long, trying to come up with ideas for it that I loved, but believe it or not I actually wrote... more than half of it... in one day. And this sucker is thirteen pages long. I was on a roll, I guess, haha.
> 
> (Also, I was trying to find a good balance between snarky canon!Tony and soft dad!Tony, I think I succeeded.)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Ma, I really don't think Peter's old enough to appreciate all this effort yet-”

“Oh, you hush, he'll appreciate the pictures in ten years.” Roberta Rhodes waved her son off and continued covering the 8-foot live Christmas tree in as many ornaments as it could hold.

“Your mother has taken the reins on Christmas, sour patch, just accept it,” Tony said from his spot on the couch, Peter in his lap working on a bottle.

“I accept it, I just think it's ridiculous,” Rhodey said. “Peter's not going to remember any of this.”

“ _We'll_ remember it. Don't be a Scrooge, James, we're going to have a wonderful first Christmas with my new grandbaby, and that includes you,” Roberta said cheerfully.

“Yeah, _James_ , no humbug while you're under my roof,” Tony teased.

“Never said we wouldn't,” Rhodey grumbled, subtly showing Tony his middle finger. Tony feigned the scandalized air of a 1950s housewife. “I gotta go to work, Ma, so I'll see you later tonight.”

Rhodey kissed his mother goodbye and clapped Tony on the shoulder as he passed on his way to the door, and then he was gone.

For a moment, Tony just watched Peter fighting to stay awake, even though his eyes were nearly closed and the speed at which he had been sucking on the bottle had decreased dramatically. It would probably not be long before he fell asleep, despite his best efforts. If Tony attempted to speed up the process by starting up a slow, subtle rocking motion, nobody had to know.

Tony listened to the cheerful Christmas music piping through the speakers as a background noise to the sound of paper rustling and ornaments clinking together as Roberta hung them. Peter was wearing a red and green striped onesie that Roberta had bought for him, and when Tony put it on him she declared with delight that he looked like a little elf, and promptly tucked his bald head into a fuzzy Santa hat that seemed more appropriately sized for a toddler than a 4 month old.

“Have you got any presents for that baby of yours, Tony?” Roberta asked, finally deciding that the tree was done after she had covered it so thoroughly that Tony could barely see any green left.

Tony shrugged. “A few. He's four months old, he doesn't do much.” Of course, what little Peter _could_ do so far were some of Tony's favorite things, but he had a reputation to uphold, whether Roberta bought it or not. (She didn't. She never had.)

Roberta smiled and sat down next to Tony, joining him in watching Peter losing his fight against sleep now that his tummy was full of warm formula and his last nap had been four hours ago.

“That's a precious little boy you have, Tony,” she said.

Tony dropped the empty bottle on the floor in favor of letting Peter close his tiny fist around Tony's thumb. “Yeah, I know. I got lucky, I guess.”

\---

After Tony had put Peter down to finish his nap in his crib, he got a call from a very apologetic Pepper.

“ _Tony, I'm so sorry, the board just called an urgent meeting, I couldn't get you out of it. I know you have Mrs. Rhodes with you for the holidays, and you don't want to leave Peter, but you're needed at SI._ ”

“Pepper-” Tony started to protest.

“ _Just for a couple of hours, I promise_ ,” she pleaded. “ _You can go right home after_.”

Tony hesitated, looking to the open door of his bedroom, where Peter lay sleeping peacefully. What if he woke up while Tony was gone? Would Roberta's “grandma touch” be enough to keep him happy?

“ _Tony, please_ ,” Pepper said. “ _I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important_.”

Tony sighed. “I'll be there in ten minutes,” he said.

“ _Thank you_.”

Tony headed for the garage, passing Roberta in the kitchen on the way.

“Roberta, I'm really sorry, they need me at SI for something, I need you to keep an eye on Peter for a couple hours,” he said, already feeling guilty, both for leaving Roberta to babysit without warning, and for leaving Peter, full stop.

“Oh, honey, that's ok,” Roberta said, brushing off his apology. “We'll be fine, you go be a big hotshot CEO for a bit. You'll be back, it's fine.”

Tony huffed a mildly relieved chuckle. “You're a lifesaver. Thank you, I really am sorry.”

“Nonsense, now go, don't be late!” Roberta ushered Tony toward the stairs, swatting at him with a dish towel. He laughed and left.

\---

About an hour into the board meeting (which the board was collectively shocked he showed up for, and which was boring him to death), the secretary cracked the conference room door open and poked her head in timidly.

“Um, I'm so sorry to interrupt,” she said nervously, “but there's a Roberta Rhodes on the line for Mr. Stark.”

Tony's heart skipped a beat and he stood up immediately.

The board member conducting the meeting cleared his throat pointedly. “With all due respect,” he said in a tone that strongly implied otherwise, “I'm sure whatever it is can wait until after the meeting-”

“With all due respect,” Tony echoed, snapping through gritted teeth, “I have a four month old son at home. 'Whatever it is' is much more important than this meeting. I'm taking the call.” He stalked out of the conference room, not stopping to look at a single one of the board members' faces on his way out.

The secretary led him to her desk and handed him a phone, which he held to his ear.

“Roberta?” Tony asked, fearing the worst.

“Hi, honey,” Roberta said, her voice not conveying anything was inherently going horribly wrong. Tony still winced; he could hear Peter's heartbreakingly sad cries close to the phone speaker; Roberta was probably holding him. “I think you need to take Peter, he's been upset since he woke up, and I can't for the life of me get him to calm down. I've tried every trick in the book.”

Tony's heart clenched as he listened to Peter crying. “I can't,” he said desperately. “My meeting isn't over yet, I can't come home-”

“Oh, I never said you had to!” Roberta said, sounding far too cheerful for the situation. “We're in the lobby!” Tony froze. “Just have someone send us up, I'll bring Peter right to you!”

Tony felt his mouth form the words “The lobby?!” but no sound came out. “Ok, uh...” He gestured for the nervous secretary's attention. “Have security bring Mrs. Rhodes up here,” he said. She nodded quickly as he passed the phone back.

He only had to wait about three minutes before a door opened and a security guard showed Roberta through, looking uneasily at the fussy baby she was carrying.

Roberta marched right to Tony and passed Peter to him. “Here you are, honey,” she cooed to Peter, “here's your daddy.”

Tony thanked Roberta quickly as she waved goodbye and followed the guard straight back out of the room, then he looked down at the baby in his arms.

Peter was snuffling miserably, his face turned away like he hadn't yet realized who was holding him. Tony shifted him to rest against his chest and made a quiet shushing noise, painfully aware of the secretary trying and failing to be subtle about how much she was staring.

“Bub, you gotta stop crying,” Tony whispered, “I need to take you into a meeting, and they're not going to be very receptive to that, the crying is just going to make it worse.” He kissed the side of Peter's head and swayed in place slowly.

Peter coughed out a shallow sob, then lifted his head off Tony's shoulder to look up at him, and his fussing quieted almost instantly. His little hand clenched around the fabric of Tony's white collared shirt.

“There you go, Pete,” Tony said encouragingly. “No more crying, I've got you. Daddy's here, bubba.”

Peter nuzzled into Tony's shoulder contentedly. The crying stopped completely, quickly replaced by soft, happy cooing, as Tony rubbed firm, slow circles into his back and kissed his head again.

“There you go,” Tony repeated. “Come on, buddy, let's go annoy some cranky businessmen.” He turned around and went back into the conference room, _fully_ enjoying the pinched, sour looks on the faces of every single person there.

Tony sat down casually in his seat, still holding Peter against his chest, because it was Peter's favorite way to be held. He cleared his throat.

“So, where were we?”

Every eye in the room that wasn't his own seemed to twitch.

\---

Peter fell asleep during the meeting, and stayed asleep until right as Tony was driving the car up the driveway back at the house. He fussed a little, but Tony talked to him (rambled pointlessly at him) until he was able to park and get Peter out of the back seat.

Roberta was knitting a... something... on the couch when Tony walked up the stairs with Peter tucked into his arm.

“How was the meeting?” Roberta called, not looking up as Tony rattled around the house, de-stressing.

Tony shook his suit jacket off one arm at a time, switching Peter from arm to arm so he didn't have to put him down, then discarded it on the coffee table and sat down on the couch with a huff.

“Went that well, did it?” Roberta said sarcastically.

Tony grunted noncommittally. His frown slowly turned into a smile as he watched Peter wriggle around on his chest, babbling away and patting at the parts of Tony's face he could reach.

\---

Christmas Eve was quiet, as always, but much more enjoyable than it usually was.

Normally Tony spent Christmas Eve alone. Even if it fell on a weekend, he never held his Christmas galas on the actual holiday, it was always the weekend before, otherwise attendance would be abysmally low, which was “bad for business”, according to Obie.

In the years between his last year of college and now, if Tony wasn't forcibly dragged to Pennsylvania (and, more specifically, the Rhodes family home) by Rhodey, he spent the holidays in his workshop, tinkering and bickering with JARVIS and his bots. It wasn't a bad way to spend the holidays – he _liked_ JARVIS and his bots – but it was how he spent almost every other day of the year.

This year was drastically different.

Christmas cheer had infiltrated Tony's home, inside and out. Colorful strings of lights wove their way around everything they possibly could. Garlands framed every window. The tree Roberta decorated stood proudly in front of the floor-to-ceiling living room windows. The only thing that hadn't been put up yet was stockings on the mantle.

Hanging the stockings on Christmas Eve, right before bed, had always been a Rhodes family tradition, and Tony supposed now it was a Stark family tradition, too, as he held Peter on his hip so he could watch as Tony hung a brand new stocking next to his own that read “PETER” in shiny red embroidery.

“That's for you, Petey,” Tony whispered, letting Peter reach out and poke and bat at the soft fabric of the stocking. “Someone's going to leave some surprises in there for you tonight.” He knew Peter didn't understand what that meant yet, but he said it anyway. “My dad didn't let me believe in Santa, and to be honest I never saw the appeal, but if you decide you like the idea of a big guy in a costume breaking into your house and leaving presents, you go right ahead. I'll play along as long as you want me to.”

Rhodey had this special hot chocolate recipe. Nobody knew where it came from. It wasn't a Rhodes thing, it was just a _Rhodey_ thing, not even Roberta knew how he came up with it. Tony's first memory of it was freshman year of college, sometime in November. Rhodey dragged him out of the lab by the ear and back to their dorm at 2 in the morning. He physically stuffed Tony into pajamas and made him hot chocolate, even when Tony wanted coffee, to help soothe his overactive brain enough to let him sleep.

He made it on Christmas Eve, huge cappuccino mugs for himself, Roberta, and Tony. It was only 6:30, but Tony felt drowsy halfway through drinking it. He still wasn't convinced Rhodey didn't put some sort of sleep aid in it.

(“You're trying to drug us, Rhodey, I swear to god,” Tony grumbled into his mug.

“I don't hear anyone else complaining,” Rhodey pointed out smugly. “And if you actually _were_ , your cup wouldn't be nearly empty.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, man.”)

Tony had convinced himself he wouldn't be that parent that dressed their baby up in themed pajamas on holidays, but Roberta bought a onesie that looked like a Santa suit, complete with a fake belt and a red beanie with a white puff ball on top, and that was that. Peter really did look adorable, and red was Tony's favorite color, so he was in no position to complain.

“Oh, Tony, honey, turn him this way, I need to take a picture, he looks so sweet,” Roberta cooed, producing a disposable camera from her purse and clicking the dial a couple times.

Tony looked up at her briefly and smiled at her excitement, then lifted Peter off his knee to stand him up facing Roberta and her camera. “Smile, Petey,” he said, supporting Peter's wobbly baby legs with one arm and using his other hand to tickle Peter's tummy until he dissolved into giggles. The camera shuttered and flashed right before Peter flopped sideways against Tony's chest and nuzzled in, giggly babbling sounds spilling from his mouth.

Tony swore he was turning to mush. He pulled Peter up a little higher to tuck his head under his chin. “Who cares about Christmas presents,” he murmured, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of a soft, warm, happy baby on his chest. “I just need this.”

He had momentarily forgotten that he had company, and scowled as Rhodey passed behind the couch on the way to the kitchen and ruffled Tony's hair. “You should have told us that before we did all our gift shopping, Tones.”

A few choice swear words were on the tip of Tony's tongue, but he swallowed them and flipped Rhodey off instead. He got a half-finished crocheted potholder to the head from Roberta for it, but the satisfaction was well worth getting his arm tangled in red and green yarn.

\---

Everyone slept a little late on Christmas morning. Well, technically Peter woke up a few times in the night for various reasons, like always, but when he woke up at 7, which was when they usually got up for the day, Tony gave him his usual bottle and then climbed back into bed with Peter on his chest, and they both fell back asleep for a couple hours. Screw routine, it was Christmas.

When they woke up again, it was to the smell of a hot breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. It was probably Roberta, because that's just what she did on Christmas mornings. She made a big breakfast, and then everyone would eat in the living room, going through stocking gifts at a leisurely pace in between bites.

Tony stretched his arms over his head one at a time, keeping Peter balanced on his chest with whichever one wasn't reaching up toward the headboard. When he was done he propped himself up a little better on the pillows and watched Peter wake up slowly, his big brown eyes scrunching up for a moment, then blinking open. His head lifted slightly off Tony's chest and he looked around, still adorably groggy from getting a little extra sleep. His eyes landed on Tony, and maybe he was a bit too sleepy to smile yet, but he kicked his legs in his happy way and reached one hand out to pat Tony's cheek clumsily.

Tony smiled and ran a hand over Peter's peach fuzz hair and down his back in one motion. “Merry Christmas, bubba,” he said quietly. Peter dropped his head back down and nuzzled back into Tony's chest, his hand closing around Tony's t-shirt. Tony laughed. “No way you're still sleepy, buddy, you slept for more than twelve hours, if you don't count all the wake-up calls.”

Peter didn't look like he was falling back asleep, and Tony's grin widened. “Oh, I see, you're just being exceptionally snuggly this morning,” he said, hoisting Peter up higher to kiss his little face.

Tony and Rhodey emerged from their rooms at more or less the same time. Rhodey grinned broadly at the sight of them; Tony had put Peter's Santa beanie back on, and now that Peter was a little more awake, he was being very smiley. He was snuggled happily into Tony's arms, but willingly allowed himself to be passed over when Rhodey reached for him.

“Merry Christmas, Peter!” Rhodey said, lifting Peter up to eye level and kissing his cheek. He looked over at Tony. “Merry Christmas, Tones.”

“Et tu, platypus,” Tony said. “I need coffee.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, still smiling. “You always need coffee.”

“Is that sarcasm I'm detecting?”

Rhodey shoved at Tony playfully, then followed him out to the living room.

“Merry Christmas, boys!” Roberta said cheerfully, setting a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls on the coffee table.

“Merry Christmas,” Tony and Rhodey chorused, taking seats on the couch.

“Breakfast looks fantastic, Ma,” Rhodey said.

“It does,” Tony agreed. “Please tell me there's coffee.”

Roberta rolled her eyes, and it was one of those moments that made Tony think, “Oh, _that's_ proof that she and Rhodey are related.”

“There is, Mr. 'Three Red Bulls A Night In College',” she teased, pushing mugs of steaming coffee toward the two men.

“I can't believe you told her about that,” Tony griped, nudging Rhodey in the rib cage. “Traitor.”

Rhodey just grinned smugly.

“You're the best, Roberta,” Tony said gratefully.

“I would think so,” she said. “Now, I made enough food to feed the entire family back in Philly, and it's just the three of us here, so eat up.”

\---

They all ate more than they probably should have, and Tony sort of wished Peter was old enough to eat solids, because he would have liked letting him try some of the amazing food. He did make him another bottle, though, and Peter was perfectly happy with that.

Roberta insisted on cleaning up, successfully making Tony feel like a garbage host for roughly the hundredth time since she arrived, and when she came back, she declared it was time for stockings.

Tony swung Peter up off the floor and carried him over to the mantle, showing him the stocking that had “magically” filled up during the night (Roberta and Rhodey had helped Tony “play Santa” for the first time in his parental career after he initially put Peter to bed the night before).

Tony lifted Peter's stocking off it's hook and held it close enough for Peter to touch. “Check it out, Pete, everything in there is for you,” he said. “Pretty cool, right, bud?” Peter's little fingers prodded and stroked the embroidery at the top of the stocking, exploring the object with seemingly very little interest in the contents. “Yeah, you're probably not old enough to care in the slightest yet, but we'll have some fun with this, anyway.” He took Peter, Peter's stocking, _and_ his own stocking back to the couch and sat down, propping Peter on some pillows in the corner and leaning Peter's stocking next to him. His own stocking was set on the coffee table for later.

Peter looked at the stocking next to him with wide, curious eyes, and when Tony pulled the first little wrapped package out of the top, those eyes tracked his hand. Tony grinned and set the package down between Peter's legs, curious to see what he'd do with it before assisting him in opening it.

Peter's motor skills weren't very refined yet, but he reached down and wrapped his hand around the little thing, obviously enjoying the crinkling sound it made when he tightened his grip. He looked up at Tony, then back down at the present, and back up at Tony.

“Now what, right, bub?” Tony said, stroking a finger along Peter's soft cheek briefly. He reached for the present under Peter's hand and started picking at the paper and tape with one hand until it tore.

The sound of the paper ripping made Peter jerk in surprise, but it didn't seem to upset him. Tony let it rip a little more, then peeled it away completely.

Peter didn't look at whatever was inside right away, instead reaching for the paper in Tony's hand. Tony let him take it, figuring he was fine to play with it as long as he didn't try to put it in his mouth. Peter shook it and pulled at it, ripping it a little more, and crumpled bits of it in his little fists.

Tony and Rhodey were both snickering, and Roberta was taking plenty of pictures.

“You're fascinated by the strangest things, kiddo,” Tony said, watching his son play with the wrapping paper. “How about you take a look at the present now, huh?”

Tony picked up the thing that had been wrapped in the paper Peter was playing with, and showed it to Peter. It was a small stuffed animal, a bright yellow duck like the squeaky rubber one Peter played with in the bath. Rhodey had questioned the logic of giving Peter something that might remind him of his least favorite thing (baths), but the duck was the only part of baths that Peter actually liked, and even seemed to get excited about when he saw it, so Tony bought the stuffed animal.

“Pete, look,” Tony said, holding the soft toy under Peter's nose. “It's a duck.”

Peter finally diverted his attention away from the crinkly wrapping paper and looked at the toy in Tony's hand. He dropped the paper and reached for it, babbling, and Tony let him take it from his hand to inspect it.

Peter's little hands squished the duck experimentally, and Tony couldn't tell if he was disappointed that it didn't squeak like the bath duck, but he seemed to like how soft it was. He poked at the embroidered blue eyes and pinched the orange bill, and kept patting at it's head.

“What do you think, buddy?” Tony said, feeling suffocating fondness flood his chest as he watched Peter explore his very first Christmas present. “Do you like it?”

Peter played with the duck for a few more moments, then his hand jerked and, intentionally or not, the duck was flung against Tony's kneecap. Tony snickered and picked it up.

“Does that mean you're done with it, or did you just do that because your motor skills are crap?” He rubbed the soft fluff of the duck against Peter's cheek, then set the toy aside, still within Peter's reach in case he wanted it back later. “Let's move on, huh, bub?”

Tony had a feeling opening presents was going to take a _very_ long time this year, and if the last five minutes were indicative of how it was going to go, he was looking forward to every minute.

\---

A few hours ( _hours_ ) later, the living room was strewn with wrapping paper and modest piles of gifts. Peter's pile was obviously the biggest, because nobody who had met him could resist the urge to spoil him. Tony and Roberta were probably (definitely) the worst offenders, and Tony was 100% ok with that. There were also presents from Uncle Rhodey, “Aunt Pepper”, and a few from the bots.

Tony had a feeling _Rhodey_ was actually behind the ones from the bots, because aside from JARVIS and Tony talking about Peter while Tony was working in the workshop, he hadn't actually introduced DUM-E, U, or Butterfingers, his robotic children, to his human child yet. It wasn't that he didn't trust them. He just... didn't trust them _with a baby_. Hell, sometimes he still didn't trust _himself_ with a baby, but he was rapidly getting over that, because for some godforsaken reason, Peter was so clingy and affectionate that it was kind of like he trusted Tony enough for the both of them. It was like Peter's own special baby brand of reassurance, and it came in a precious bundle with priceless smiles and endless snuggles.

Rhodey fell into some sort of Christmas-induced coma, snoring softly on one end of the couch with his body wrapped comically around a throw pillow. Roberta put a Santa hat on him and snapped a picture, and Tony just barely managed to contain his laughter, not wanting to wake him up.

Tony decided to put Peter down for a nap, too; he had been up for a while and was starting to look a little wired. So, he scooped Peter up, let Roberta stop him long enough for her to kiss Peter's face a few times, and headed back to his room.

“Ok, Petey, you had a pretty exciting morning, didn't you?” Tony said, nestling Peter into the rumpled sheets of his unmade bed and settling over him, gently tugging the beanie off his little head. Peter looked up at him with big, sleepy eyes, kicking his legs lethargically. At least he still looked happy. “Yeah, I know, bubba, you're definitely due for a nap.” Tony sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling his sleepy baby back into his arms and cradling him close. “So, what will it be this time? Do you want me to sing, or are you tired enough that you'll just fall asleep unprompted?”

Peter blinked slowly, hunkering down in Tony's arms. Tony laughed softly.

“Comfy, buddy?” He watched Peter struggle to keep his eyes open. “Hey, it's ok, you can sleep. You don't have any other commitments today.” Tony shifted Peter to one arm and used his newly free hand to rub slow circles on Peter's tummy. “Go to sleep, bambino.”

Peter lost the fight to sleep and drifted off, nuzzling into Tony's shirt and breathing deeply.

Tony had been planning to get up and put Peter in his crib to nap, but as he watched Peter's peaceful face and listened to the snuffly sleepy noises he made, he realized that he really didn't want to. He settled back against his pillows, rocking gently, and watched his son sleep, and he found himself singing under his breath.

 _Still, still, still_  
_One can hear the falling snow_  
_For all is hushed,_  
_The world is sleeping_  
_Holy Star it's vigil keeping_  
_Still, still, still  
_ _One can hear the falling snow_

Tony had never been all that interested in the more religious Christmas carols, usually preferring songs like _Jingle Bell Rock_ or an Andy Williams classic, but Maria Stark had loved carols, playing them on her piano for hours or listening to her old records as she had Tony help her decorate the tree. He remembered her favorite vividly; she sang it more than any of the others, often holding Tony in her lap and stroking his hair as she did.

Tony's voice faded to silence, and he studied Peter's face; the soft lashes fluttering against the tops of even softer cheeks, and his little chest and tummy rising and falling with each steady breath. Tony leaned down and kissed Peter's forehead.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love this fic so much, I'm so proud of it, I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> I've worked really hard on this, and starting this Christmas series is my gift to all of you collectively, so I hope you can tell how much love I put into it. It means so much to me that people have been reading and loving and commenting on my fics, and it motivates me to keep writing. Thank you guys a million. I'm sure I'll post a few more times before Christmas, but I'm saying this now because it's kind of overwhelming me today? More so than usual? I don't know, I love you guys, that's all I'm saying, thank you.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr and Instagram @riseuplikeglitterandgold!


End file.
